CHAPTER ELEVEN
L ucy opens the door before I even bring my hand up to knock. She owns a cute little cottage-type home just a few minutes from the city.
“Girl, what is going on?” she asks, pulling the door wide as I make my way inside.
Every spot is sparkling clean, but the scent of garlic and tomato sauce fills the air, tingling my nose. My mouth salivates as I breathe it in while trying to take a calming breath.
“My date, he was sixteen!” I holler, still feeling shaken up from the shock of it all.
“ You were catfished ?”
“Oh. My. God. I was catfished!” Realization setting in.
Lucy closes the front door. I take off my shoes and go to the island in the middle of her kitchen. I lean my elbows on the cool marble top and rest my chin in my hands.
Lucy is cooking pasta.
“Want some?” she says, taking the pot off and pouring the noodles in a strainer.
“Yes, please.” I pause then ask, “Have you ever been catfished? Why would someone even do this?”
Lucy takes out two bowls and divides up the pasta.
“Nope, can’t say I have, sorry. I’m guessing your teenager thought he might have a chance at getting laid,” she says flatly.
My eyes grow wide at her response. I grab some silverware from her drawer and two placemats and set the table to the left of the kitchen. She follows with our pasta and some Parmesan. She comes over to my chair before sitting down and quickly hugs me.
“They won’t all be like this,” she assures me.
Lucy returns to the oven, letting out steam as she opens the door. My nose immediately recognizes the scent of garlic bread as it fills the air. Oh, thank God , what is pasta without the bread to dunk it in?
We eat the pasta, and then she helps me review more profiles. I clearly need help with this.
I ended up matching with a few different people, and she urged me to send messages to each of them. I tell her I’m worried I won’t be able to keep them straight, what if I say the wrong name on a date? She tells me I don’t have to meet every single guy I talk to. She’s right. I’m just chatting, just getting to know the guys.
Lucy has had her own fair share of bad dates but loves going out. I respect her determination and her ability to be so carefree about it all.
I leave just before midnight, yawning. I hear my phone ping. That will have to wait till morning.
* * *
I spend the next few days talking to multiple guys and questioning my dating skills. It’s a lot, but I’m having fun. One guy is a chef at a local restaurant I’ve visited a few times with my dad. I’m sure we’ve crossed paths at some point in time. It’s not a huge city. He’s the same age as me, and we seem to have a lot in common, but I’m taking this one a bit slower, so I’m not caught off guard quite as horrifically as I allowed myself to be with the first two dates.
The other guy I’m chatting with is a bit older than me. He enjoys ballroom dancing, mostly salsa, and theater. I like that he is more creative, and I like him so far, except for his love for all types of dance. His personality isn’t wildly exciting. He suggested we go salsa dancing for our first date. I’ve sort of been avoiding the subject, not quite ready to commit to the date yet.
And then there are a few other guys I’ve been messaging about random stuff, but it’s clear nothing will come of it.
Lucy’s been urging me to go dancing. Apparently, Salsa is a sexy, sensual dance, and I could use some heat in my life. She’s not wrong, but I don’t want a one-night stand. Or do I?
It’d be nice to have some attention, maybe some flirtatious vibes, a boost to my ego after the disastrous first two dates.
I’m unpacking a box of new books just brought in from a new self-published author and adding them to our indie display beside the cash register when I see Ben walk in. We haven’t spoken since the electrifying donut moment. He’s popped in to say hi, but I’ve busied myself every time so as not to make things more awkward than they already are.
“Hey,” I say, not looking directly at him.
He makes his way to my plants and feels the soil. “I’ll come back later to water these.”
I nod. I really don’t have a green thumb.
He picks up one of the books and turns it over, though I know he’s not interested in romance books. Ben is more of a sci-fi or superhero type of guy. I mean, I am assuming, based on the number of comic-type t-shirts he wears to work.
“Everything okay?” he asks me.
I face him. “Yeah, why do you ask?”
“I just thought maybe you were ignoring me. You’ve been quiet,” he says, and I can feel my cheeks turning pink.
Can he read my mind? I stop myself before I have any other thoughts that he can read.
“Not at all, just busy in the store and the dating stuff,” I say casually, knowing full well I sound anything but.
“How’s that going?” he asks.
I reach for another box of books. As I bend to pick it up, Ben appears at my side, resting a hand on my shoulder.
“Let me get that for you.”
I step back, and he picks up the box as if it weighs nothing more than a decorative pillow.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, so any good dates?” he asks again.
“I was catfished earlier this week,” I say, looking down, still feeling slightly embarrassed.
His eyebrows raise in curiosity. “What do you mean you were catfished? What happened?”
“I showed up for my pizza date, and the dude was sixteen,” I say, turning my back to him and continuing on as if meeting a sixteen-year-old on a date isn’t a big deal.
I start breaking up the empty boxes for recycling. I hear a loud fit of laughter from behind me. I turn to see Ben grasping his stomach in a fit.
“It’s not funny!” I exclaim, staring at him in disbelief.
His laughter continues. I see the corner of his eyes crinkling and his glasses slide down his nose. I smile at his scrunched-up face. He’s got a friendly face.
I grab a pillow off the chair and playfully smack him on the arm with it.
“Seriously,” I say, trying to hide my smile.
“So you showed up, and a sixteen-year-old approached you and declared his love for you, or what?” He’s gasping for air between words.
Okay, seriously, it isn’t that funny.
I sigh but let myself feel some of the humor in the situation.
“It was more of a ‘you’re hot, I’m hot, so let’s make some magic’ type of love declaration,” I say, mimicking the teenage boy.
I feel the tension ease from my shoulders. I allow myself to fully laugh at the sad attempt of a date and my impression.
“I can’t believe that. I’m sorry that happened, Sof. But he wasn’t wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
I can see his eyes twinkling. He looks mischievous. “You’re hot.” He grins and heads towards the door. “I’m going to go grab my water jug. I’ll be right back.”
I stand there, unsure of what to think or what to say. This thing between us - what is this? I mean, I guess I have been noticing that Ben is kind of hot too. But I don’t think I would ever tell him that to his face. We’re friends! I get back to the books in my hands and add these new feelings to that little locked box deep inside my mind.
* * *
I sucked up my pride and wrote about the whole humiliating encounter in technicolor for Lace & Dots magazine. Miriam loved it. I can’t believe my luck so far. She’s thrilled with the feedback she’s received and is enjoying reading my articles. Who knows, maybe this will lead to more jobs with Lace & Dots, I can’t help but silently wish.
My confidence in the online dating process hasn’t been boosted yet, but I’m not giving up. After all, if at first you don’t succeed, swipe, swipe again!
Bring on the Salsa dancing!